Chaos flew through the village on a wind of doubt and fear. The hurried plans of the previous days fell apart into a maelstrom of opposing wills. Many of the children were being rushed towards one of the fortified underground storerooms, their little faces pale and some streaming with tears. Most of the others, he was vaguely happy to see, were running towards the water armed with an array of the weapons the villages had been working so hard to prepare. Knives here, bows and arrows there, even spears and darts. Some, particularly the younger ones, carried slingshots with bags of stones. What little use they’d be in such a fight, but bless their souls for the thought. Despite the harsh words that had been thrown around, despite that frightened man who’d hung himself, somehow, these people were coming together, and it was exactly what Skane would need.
How many of them, he couldn’t help but think as he hurried to the sea, would be gone by the end of the day? All of them? Half of them? He knew what he ought to think, that given what they knew of the Ør, there wouldn’t be a single villager who could still draw breath in a few hours’ time, but that thought was too defeating, too overwhelming to contemplate.
He turned his eyes towards the northwest where only trees and snow and sky sat quietly. No sign of Ósa. No sign of the hope he’d been resting so heavily upon. That letter she’d sent; she’d reached the mountains. What had become of her since? If only he could send her his thoughts, cast them out into the void and see if hers were still out there. Would she ever know how this fight would end?
At the coast, it was a grim sight indeed, despite the darkness. In the moonlight, wide, bulky wooden boats, so unlike Skane’s long, narrow ones, were coming ever nearer across the water. They moved quickly, too, much more quickly than any row boat Ivar had ever seen. Perhaps it was that kind of strength, paired with much larger boats, that gave them the power to make it through the wild White Water to the north. Or maybe the danger just didn’t deter them. Maybe they did it regardless of how many lives they lost.
Ivar darted his eyes nearer to the coast on the water. Three boats were coming back to the shore, and one man waved a hand wildly in a signal. They’d done it.
“Eldór!” Ivar called to the man who stood a few metres away. In his hand was a torch.
Eldór hurried over while Ivar proffered the soaked tip of his arrow, and it was ablaze in seconds. It took him a moment to stop the shaking of his hands before he could properly take aim. It wasn’t so much fear that wracked him as a sudden understanding of an event that had recently seemed so distant.
Taking a high aim so it would be sure to travel such a distance, Ivar drew in a slow, steady breath before letting the arrow fly. It soared into the windless sky, a signal of their first hope against the coming onslaught.
Without ceremony the arrow plunged into the water, swallowed by the ink-black waves. Just as Ivar began to think about readying a second arrow, a blue glow became apparent at the arrow’s final destination.
A few of the villagers cheered as the oil spread atop the water went up in flames. From a distance, where the oil wasn’t clearly visible, it looked as if the ocean itself was ablaze, the sight blindingly bright in the darkness. Despite the gravity of the situation, Ivar allowed himself a small smile when the boats carrying the Ør ground to a halt. A mist of spray from their shuddering oars rose around the fleet. It wouldn’t put them off for long and the fire would soon burn out, but any way to throw off their attack and perhaps set them on their guard, especially if they feared fire, was welcome.
The flames burned a dull red. They were like liquid coals, petering out into a thick black smoke that obscured the stars and the ships. Ivar wished more than anything that they would sail their boats straight into it and burn to death, every single one of them. What a sight that would be. But they remained still. They had travelled such a great distance to do this; they wouldn’t be put off so easily. They would wait the fire out, and then continue their invasion.
The men who’d spread the oil were dragging their boats inland now, readying for their second set of tasks. The second step wouldn’t do much, no doubt. It would only stave the Ør off for a few more seconds or minutes, but that extra time, time between now and their last breaths, was all they wanted.
Here and there, where the water was moving in and out the fires were dying down, and holes were forming in the wall of flame. Already the Ør were making for those gaps. The first one to make it through unscathed made Ivar’s skin prickle. They were so close now, so huge and monstrous.
When the first of the boats were just nearing the shore, grinding on to the pebbles beneath the surface of the water, Eldór handed him a second flaming arrow. The villagers began to draw back, intimidated by the sudden closeness of the Ør and the menace of their appearances.
Ivar shot the second arrow on to the ground just at the edge of the beach.
It was thick with oil, and this time caught the flame much faster than on the water. Now, the only way forward for the Ør would be through it. There were so many of them, though. More than he could have imagined. Once the first Ør fell, the others would be able to walk across their fallen bodies and reach the villagers in no time – if they treated their comrades with such contempt. Ivar hoped that wasn’t the case. Those who were already at the shore hung back, leaving a small gap of water between them and the blaze.
“For those of you with bows and arrows, your time is now!” Ivar shouted, fixing a regular arrow to his bow. He took aim at one of the brutes directly across from him, but realized they were more heavily armoured than the scouts. Their necks were covered in hardened leathers, which had been the one place he remembered they were the weakest. Where else? he thought quickly. Their arrows were fairly weak, not reinforced with stone or metals. It was unlikely they would pierce their skull.
Then he saw it.
Taking aim, he let the arrow fly in the monster’s left eye. It sank in deeply, so deeply it had certainly reached his brain. The monster shrieked, stumbling and yanking the arrow from his face. Shooting it had been one thing, but seeing the Ør pull the arrow back out, dripping with blood and leaving a hole where it had pierced, turned Ivar’s stomach.
“Aim for their eyes!” he shouted to the other archers. Within second, a small hoard of arrows was zipping through the air towards the monsters. Only a few of them made their mark, but those few hit were knocked off their feet, and some directly into the fire. Before they could move to stand, they were ablaze. For those whose eyes hadn’t been pierced, some had been nicked in the arms or legs, and some missed altogether.
As Ivar moved to string another arrow, he caught sight of a familiar figure to his right, half-hidden in the trees. Anneka. She gripped a small knife tightly with both hands, her eyes wide. He caught her gaze for a moment before she shrank back.
With a sudden deafening cry, a large group of the Ør charged through the fire, moving so quickly it didn’t have time to fully set them aflame. While a few fell, clawing at small flames licking their feet, most of the oils that had stuck to them were soon wiped off by the wet rocks of the beach. From that single point, it spread down the line of fire until hundreds of them were pouring through. Any unease over the flames they’d once felt had vanished. Now they were ready to fight.
Sigvard, Eldór and a few others were forming a solid group armed with swords and large knives. On a shout from Ósa’s father, they charged into the fight.
Something above caught Ivar’s attention and he glanced up. The lós were faintly visible overhead, but – it couldn’t be the lós. He craned his neck, as if it would give him a better view. Sure enough, they were waving, moving lights, just like the lós, but…
They were gold.
Smoke carried to Ivar on the breeze, along with screams from the villagers and shouts from the Ør. But something else was carried along with it. Something faint that reached his ears despite the shrieking of the devils.
The beat of wings.
Chapter 33
Outside the Goddess’s te
mple, the dragon stood waiting. I understood without asking: at the instruction of the Goddess, it would take me home. It bowed its head to allow me room to climb his shoulder, where I gripped its ice-cold neck with all my strength.
The ground fell away and the sky embraced us as the dragon took flight, soaring far above the mountains towards the foothills and the plain. My head swam as we rose higher and higher, and my heart couldn’t help smiling at the beauty. It was a view of my island I’d never seen before and perhaps would never see again.
Something moved below – a small figure clad in white, waving its arms, and a few notes of song teased my ears.
“Down!” I exclaimed, sitting up and staring. I knew who it was even before we landed softly in the snow.
Sejer.
“Let me fight with you,” he said, placing a hand on the crossbow strung across his back. “There is nothing left for me here. Let my weapon serve you.”
I answered with a smile.
How small everything looked, everything that had once seemed so monstrous. The mountains shrank away, the foothills were little more than mounds in the snow, and the plain was a blanket of white as we passed by in silence overhead. It was the closest I’d ever been to the stars, and while their beauty didn’t escape me, my hurry to get home clouded my mind.
The trees streamed by. The River Horn. Everything below turned familiar, and in the distance, I saw the shimmering surface of the lake. And then we were over my village, seemingly devoid of life – and shouting reached my ears on the breeze. Smoke and fire rose from the beach. My stomach clenched as I leaned as far forward as I dared, straining for a better look.
We soared on to the beach and the fighting around us paused as everyone glanced up at the newcomers. I couldn’t waste time, but I also couldn’t stop my eyes from roving the beach, searching for those few beloved faces I longed to see. It was instinct, almost; against my will, my eyes searched for my family. For Ivar. But the Ør didn’t let themselves be distracted for long. Again their blades were raised in the air, seeking a victim to sever in two. Already, bodies littered the beach.
Whose were they?
I sang to the dragon and he kneeled, giving us a way to slide down. Sejer jumped into action, the crossbow already off his back and in use. I snatched the knives from where they hung at my waist and let one fly into the face of a nearby Ør. Thank goodness for all of those lessons with Ivar, growing up. The Ør howled and fell backwards, tripping over the body of a villager. I swallowed vomit. I might have known that person. As I ran to retrieve my knife, I chanced a glance at their face. Unfamiliar, yet my heart still ached. They were one soul I hadn’t been able to save. One out of the many who lay motionless around me.
A shriek sounded from behind, and I spun just in time to dive out of the way of an Ør blade that crashed to the ground where I’d been standing. The Ør howled and raised the knife once more, but I danced away, drawing back my hand to throw my own blade again. It surprised me, though, by charging forward and knocking into my body so hard that I hit the ground. All the air left my lungs in a burst and I opened my mouth, gasping, but they couldn’t seem to refill. Tiny rocks and shell shards from the beach tried to cut through my clothing. Silhouetted against the dark sky, I saw the Ør raising its blade, and for a terrifying moment, I thought that was how it would end, gasping and breathless, beheaded by a monster who stood framed by my beloved stars.
The muscles in its arms tightened as it made to swing the blade down, but a whisper and a thud left an arrow protruding from one of its eyes. It screamed and snatched at it, pulling the arrow out with the eyeball attached to the end of it. I cringed and looked away as the beast thudded to the ground, writhing in pain.
And Ivar was there, running across the beach towards me, a bow in one hand. I couldn’t hear the fighting for a moment, couldn’t see anything else but that beautiful, familiar face coming for me. His heart still beat, his eyes still saw. Something poured down my face, and while at first I vaguely thought it might be blood, I realized they were tears.
“Ósa.” He crashed to his knees and grabbed one of my knives, hurtling it towards an approaching Ør. Then he took my head where I still lay breathless on the ground and cradled it, saying my name over and over again. “You made it,” he said into my ear. “You made it, Ósa.”
I knew we needed to rise, needed to get back up and face the fight raging around us, but this moment was so perfect, so filled with comfort and beauty that I couldn’t tear myself from it. I wanted every second to drag into a moment, to wrap myself in his familiarity and cherish it like I’d never done before. I buried my face in his clothing, allowing myself a few more seconds of being able to hide from the death, from the danger that lurked only paces away. I’d faced so much of it alone, faced so many fears and terrors without him, suddenly seeing his face and hearing his voice left me drowning in relief.
“Come,” he said, standing and taking my hand. “We can fight together.”
I drew in a breath, my lungs still fragile from the blow to my body, and used him as leverage to pull myself to my feet. The sound of the fight, the screaming Ør and shouts from my people, closed in all at once, a deafening amalgamation of fear and anger fighting one another beneath a starlit sky. I took it in for a moment, took in the bloodbath happening around us. Villagers were being cut down, and while some had managed to overpower a few of the monsters, the odds were stacked firmly against us.
“Ósa!” Ivar shouted. Two of the Ør were running towards us so fast I barely had the time to draw back my hand to throw a knife before they were upon us. They swept their arms out wildly, their blades looking for any body part to lodge into. I darted away but the tip of the knife caught my clothing – just my clothing, I hoped. I was too focused, too full of energy to feel any pain.
Ivar ran back a few steps, drawing away one of the attackers and giving himself enough time to string his bow. His quiver only bore one more arrow after the one he’d just strung.
He missed the shot. “Damn it!” he screamed, running further and reaching for the last arrow.
I couldn’t watch. My attacker was growing tired of me evading it, and all around us there were the sounds of people dying. I took one of my knives and let it fly through the air, but in a surprising show of agility, the Ør used its own blade to knock it away. It clattered on to the beach too far away for me to be able to reach it. One more knife, that was the only weapon I had left.
I followed Ivar’s example and turned, running away to allow myself enough room to throw. When I span back around to face the Ør, it was close behind me. There wasn’t time to focus, to aim, so I just let the knife fly and prayed for luck. It clipped the left side of its head, taking his ear off completely, and then sank into the ground behind him. There was a sickening moment of silence from the monster as its eyes went wide and it reached a gnarled hand up to its severed ear. Then it erupted in a piercing scream that overwhelmed all other noises on the beach. I ran to my right, towards the knife it knocked out of the air, but it followed me. I reached for the knife, grabbed it, and whirled just as a blade was coming crashing through the air towards me.
Further along the beach, something caught my attention. An Ør was making for a villager – one I recognized – who seemed to be unaware of its approach. Anneka. I screamed her name, but my voice drowned in the noise. I’d never reach her in time, but I started to move anyway.
Just as I began to run, another figure joined her, slashing into the monster’s neck. Ymir. My mouth opened in shock and joy. I’d hardly seen the old man move in recent years, let alone fight. Not far behind him, Gregor – the leader of Is̊avik – swung a sword with the agility of a much younger man.
It warmed me, somehow, seeing the two older men fighting together. If they were going to die, they wanted to die defending their country. I couldn’t help but respect that.
Ivar rejoined me, throwing another knife as he did so. I gripped my own knife, ready to engage it once more, but the sight of
another villager being cut down stopped me. The Ør slashed at the man’s neck, nearly severing his head from his body, and then turned to find another victim.
Arvid, the man who’d loaned me the horse.
I swallowed bile.
I thought, then, as I watched the villagers being cut down, as more of the monsters poured on to the beach, as a hint of dawn began to glow on the horizon, of what had happened on the ridge. You carry within yourself the power of the stars, the power of the sky. I didn’t understand then, and I didn’t fully understand it now, but it meant something, of that I was certain. As Ivar shot the single arrow he’d retrieved, as screams and cries continued to echo around us, I looked up. The stars shone overhead, silent and peaceful as ever. They were all there, just like I’d left them on the mountains. The kneeling Giant, the fearsome Wolf, the Horse with that majestic horn. They were watching us, I realized, though I didn’t know how I knew it. I could feel it, perhaps. Sense it. But watch us, they did.
Even with our numbers, we were all going to die if I didn’t do something. We were all still in danger.
Go and fight your battle, and the power will go with you.
Overhead, there were faint traces of the lós glowing against the stars, only instead of blue or green – or red – the lights were gold.
Reawakens something old.
The words filled every corner of my mind, echoing and bouncing. Something was reawakening.
A shiver ran through me, heavy with power and spark: a shiver of snow and sky and everything that made Skane the fierce and beautiful island it was. Everything around me – the snow, the ice, the sea – seemed to flood me with its strength, its power, until I was brimming with an energy so intense it awoke every fibre of my body.
A song began then. It started in my core, in some unknown point deep within me, and grew from there. Words and notes carried themselves almost unbidden out of my throat, off my tongue and into the frozen night air in a burst of white. I kept my eyes on the stars, no longer hearing the fight around us, no longer thinking of anything but the sky and my song.
A Shiver of Snow and Sky Page 22
